What If Tales: After the Sky Fell
by Jin Won
Summary: When something strange crashes in New Mexico, one scientist is taken to discover what it is and where did it come from. What If Tale... Four Part Series
1. Part One: The Hanger

**After the Sky Fell**

**Pt. One**

"A farmer found it…" Harper's eyes glanced over to the relatively young man in a leather pilot's jacket, and a New York Yankees baseball cap. On his legs were casual slacks. _If he's a soldier, he sure as hell didn't look like it. _

The guy looked no more than twenty-six years old, give or take a few years. And with one hand bracing against the dashboard and the other holding onto his cap he looked awkward, and Harper knew his driving skills weren't that bad.

"What?" The young man said, looking over before peering back at the bumpy dust road ahead.

"A farmer found it."

"Oh? And when did the farmer report the crash in?"

Harper frowned, and reached up, scratching a sunburned hand through his black hair. "Not sure, the 509th Bomb Group recovered the craft. So I would have to say July 9th. The morons had the intelligence to release a press release." Harper glanced down at the small space between the two and nodded. "Take a look."

The young man reached down, letting go of his hat and grabbed the newspaper tucked in the space. Harper continued. "Front page, top left."

The kid flipped the newspaper over and looked at the spot and the man was right. The papers were calling it a _"Flying Disc"_. Yet everyone and their mother knew it was just a damn high altitude balloon, from Project Mogul. His eyes glanced through the article, reading it quickly.

Harper smiled at the kid's interest and saw the base up ahead. The large barb-wired burdened fence loomed over ahead and the guard towers pin-pricked the surrounding area. "We brought you in to check out wreckage."

"I'm a biologist, Captain Harper, not a mechanic. Couldn't one of your techs check it out?" His eyes were focused on the article, reading it slower this time.

"No." The man's voice was cold. The young man looked up curious. Harper's eyes were focused intently on the road ahead. "Look, Mr. Palmer, my Commanding Officer doesn't want you here. But it's out of our hands."

"What do you mean: 'It's out of your hands'."

Harper frowned. "You'll see."

The Willys MB slowed to a stop, coming out was a heavily armed guard wielding a M1 Garand. He was dressed in olive drab military uniform and his face was rough, scars making pale marks along it, there were dozens. He held his stern gaze as he looked at the driver. "Captain Harper."

"Sergeant."

"Who's your friend here?" His voice was cold, menacing. Very, very dangerous.

"This is Chadwick Palmer, he's from Washington. He's for hanger 6-A."

The man's face grew dark and he nodded. He turned to his partner near the gate. "Open it."

The metallic fence slowly, and Harper nodded, driving straight through.

Palmer glanced over his shoulder to see both men were still watching him. And they continued to as they made a right, heading towards the hangers near the airfield. _What the hell was that about?_

The jeep slowed to a stop, Harper exited quickly not looking back. "Follow me, don't touch a damn thing. And for god's sake don't look it in the eye."

"Look what, in the eye?" Palmer grabbed the backpack that was nestled on the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

He quickly scampered forward and walked along side the taller soldier who led them to the closed doors of the hanger. There was a single door etched on it. And it was firmly locked.

Palmer looked at the Captain who gave a glance at him. The Army Air Force Pilot raised his arm and gave a single hard knock. The door opened slowly. Harper spoke finally in the tense moments. "We want to make sure that we don't draw attention."

Palmer nodded.

Harper entered the quickly and Chadwick followed. Darkness surrounded him, and the light from the door vanished with the sound of a "click".

"Jesus it's dark in here." Palmer murmured, his eyes adjusted, and he saw the faint outline of Harper and another man. He assumed that there was another person behind him.

"We turn off the lights to open the door." Harper said, he then said something that was towards another person. "Young, turn on the lights."

There was a low _hum_. And the world became white in a flash. Palmer squeezed his eyes shut, and slowly opened them revealing a white tarp covering something _massive_.

It had to be at least fifty feet long, but with the dark he couldn't be too sure. Around it he noticed wooden fold up tables, dozens of them, each with what looked to be military equipment on them. There were also seven men and women in white lab coats looking at him.

Moving forward Palmer looked at behemoth before making his way towards one of the tables.

What he saw took his breath away.

They were chrome-like in appearance, with what seemed to have patches of blue and cyan metals attached. It came in two parts connected by a larger piece in the rear and one much smaller farther forward. Jutting out from the top half was what appeared to be two long "fins". It was elegant and smooth to the touch and one other fact was clear.

It wasn't human.

He picked it up, weighed it in his hands, light. Chad nodded. He gave a glimpse behind him as Harper approached. "What is it?"

"We were hoping _you_ could tell _us_."

Palmer looked at the military man; he was standing there in olive-drab his hands clasped behind his back. Waiting, for what, he didn't know. "It was found at the site." Harper said.

The young man smiled, but it wasn't one of humor or happiness but one of a feeling of worry. "Yeah…" Palmer put the weapon down. "I don't know what to tell you. I know it isn't human."

"We know that, Mr. Palmer. The question is what does it do?"

Shaking his head, Chad frowned. This man wanted answers but just because Palmer was something of genius they still had the power to grab Einstein and bring him there. "Look, I'm not a professional. I was just in the town for a couple days."

"But you do work for the Government."

"Yeah, but-"

"You worked on the atom bomb?"

"That's totally irrele-"

"That means you can find out what it does. An egghead like you that can find out how to make atoms go boom, can sure as hell find out this thing works."

Chad grew angry, the military was one to jump to conclusions and as if someone smart had all the answers. He didn't have _one_. "Look, Captain. I was put on the Manhattan Project to see the effects of the bomb on the human body and surrounding wildlife, and even on that I was… ill-equipped to handle."

"Fine. We just thought you could help with this subject. But we'll bring someone else in." The man was calm.

Palmer was confused and he tilted his head to the side, puzzled. He finally caught on.

"Wait a second. If you didn't bring me here to see this, why did you bring me on this base?"

The Captain finally broke from the stern expression, and almost gave what looked to be a grin. "Follow me, Mr. Palmer. I think we found your area of expertise."

Harper turned and was moving quickly to the rear of the hanger, and Palmer noticed a new set of wooden doors guarded by men with something very unusual. "Are those men armed with the StG44?"

"Yes." Harper responded quickly.

"But I didn't know that the military armed anyone with those types of weapons. How did your men get them?"

Harper paused. "Those aren't our soldiers."

"Then whose soldiers are they?"

He didn't respond. He stopped in front of the door. "This is Chadwick Palmer; he's here to see the bakers."

The man on the right nodded slowly and opened the door. It swung inward. Palmer walked quickly through it but Harper stayed, and Chad turned. "You're staying here?"

"My jurisdiction ends here, Mr. Palmer."

"But…"

"I'll see you when you get back." The Captain turned and walked casually away.

It didn't matter, the pair of soldiers who stood by the door followed him in anyway and they didn't say a word. What could they say? There was another beyond that which Chad was obligated to open, and the biologist did.

The room was white, a bright white that seemed to shone and reflect light off of every surface. Palmer had a problem seeing even when he squinted. But the lights seemed to dull down and he focused.

There were examining tables inside and there were bodies… Oh a lot of bodies. He counted maybe five… And it was freezing in there. He glanced behind him, watched the door shut and it seemed like his military buddies weren't coming. Shame… He barely got to know them.

There was a voice. "Mr. Palmer, I'm glad you made it."

He recognized the voice and squinted, harder. "I'm not in that room, Mr. Palmer. But I will be in…" The voice sounded like it was from an intercom but it changed once he heard the ruffling of seemed to be plastic and a man seemed to appear from the far side of the room.

"Why do you want me here?"

"For this." He saw a faint hand rise up and wave him forward. Palmer weaved through the tables to one of the farthest bodies. He saw the man was behind a plastic curtain, and the light made it almost impossible for Palmer to see him behind it. "Here put these on."

The man handed Chad a pair of what looked to be aviator sunglasses. He didn't bother asking what they were for.

He slipped them on and looked down at the white sheet that under it held a body. "You wanted me to check out corpses?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'm a funeral director." He sighed. "What happened? Crashed his plane?"

The man ignored the sarcasm and reached up above the head of the corpse and gripped the white sheet with his gloved hands. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good." The man moved in one fluid motion, and pulled the cover off the top half of the body.

Palmer jumped back, backing into the other table. "What the hell happened to him?" He yelled.

"Don't know…" The man shrugged. "We presumed it had something to do with our friend on the table behind you."

Palmer turned and looked down at the other cover. The man in the white coat moved over and gripped the covers again; Palmer expected to see just a body. Maybe just a bit bloodied and battered. Like the first but he didn't.

It was something not human.

He should've seen it from the height, almost eight feet tall. From the lights and the squinting, he didn't notice. It had _four _jaws and almost elongated head, its skin molted bluish-black, and its cold brown eyes.

It was something he could've never imagined.

Something out of a god damned nightmare from his youth. Hell no, not even the boogey man couldn't even compare to this thing.

Palmer took a simple step back this time and murmured.

"What the _fuck _is that thing?"

The man next to him shook his head slowly, frowning.

"We brought you here to find that out."


	2. Part Two: Swept Away

**Pt. 2**

His mind raced, he couldn't focus and everything was hitting him too fast. But what could he do? He couldn't back down now. Not after what he saw. He shook the thoughts out of his skull and focused.

"So what exactly happened?" Palmer asked, he leaned against the cold metallic table looking down at the creature.

The scientist shrugged. "It's extensive, but I'll give you the short and sweet version of it. This is Airman Robin Harrison," He was looking at the human body. "He was part of response team that the base sent to secure the crash site."

"And it didn't end well…"

"Son… Nothing ends well when something crashes." The man's blue eyes seemed to glaze over in thought but then refocused. "His partner we interviewed talked about there was four survivors of the crash, and six dead. They added to the body count by nailing the one that mowed him down, and the rest seemingly surrendered when the base send a Sherman out."

Palmer nodded silently.

"We put the dead here in cold storage."

"And the others?"

The man ignored the question. "They are in more… appropriate facilities."

Palmer moved toward the inhuman body and looked down at it with skepticism. He touched its skin; it was smooth and cold to the touch. Reminded him of a human's. He looked at the far reaches of the chest and the head. Some type of armor.

"Have you tried getting this off?" Palmer motioned to the helmets and the chest plate.

"No. When Robin's partner fired at the creature it seemed to have some sort of shielding around it. And the military boys say that if we want the armor off, we would have to slice it. And the brass doesn't want that. So as of now what can you make of it?"

"Human… _Humanoid._ Maybe, eight… eight and a half feet tall. I think it could it be mammal or mammal like reptile. One mouth. Four mandibles, two eyes, one throat." Chadwick looked at one of the hands that dangled off the edge of the table. "And only three fingers."

"We know that, kid. Tell us something we don't know."

Palmer looked at the muscles; even dead the creature's muscles looked tightened. "It lives in a slightly higher gravitational environment. Its muscles must have almost no fat on them. Hoofed feet to spread weight out over a greater area and maybe a higher sprinting speed than the fastest man, but it looses maneuverability. Neck directly attached to the skull, larger brain capacity, I would say it thinks on a higher plane than we do."

A quick scan of the body, "And that's about it."

The man looked over Palmer, he smiled. "Good. Follow me."

_What the hell is this? Follow the leader?_ He did what he was told, a heavy frown on his lips and a tired appearance in his eyes. He still hadn't time to comprehend everything, and his brain was drained from what he had heard and seen.

He was led by the man into the back of the freezer in which he opened a door which led outside. "So where are you from Mr. Palmer?"

"New York, why?"

"So why were you in town today?"

"Visiting a friend of the families, her father is sick." Palmer raised an eyebrow.

"Did you tell her, you were coming here? Did you tell anyone you were coming here?" The man turned around, but was still walking.

"No."

The man gave another smile, but this one put Chadwick on edge. The exposed teeth, the upturned lips and the narrowed eyes on that worn face. A Devilish smile reserved for when he knew something and no one else was in on it.

"Look," Palmer said, this man had to be a Government agent. "G-Man, I need to get back in town soon. When is all this going to be completed?"

"Soon." The "G-Man" opened a door to adjoining hanger. This one was bright, brighter than the light outside, Palmer could barely see a damn thing even with the aviator sunglasses on.

So many thoughts inside his head, but one screamed at him. Get the hell out of there.

Too late for that.

Like an obedient puppy he entered, with the life scared out of him.

Brightness, the light burned through his retinal's, he squinted. As he did so, the lights instantly shut off, except for one, which was in the direct center of the hanger over looking something that was strapped down to a metal chair. It was larger than a human, of course, and Palmer knew instantly what it was.

"It won't talk to us." Palmer jumped. The G-Man stood behind him. "So we you to talk to it. It knows English, mighty damn well too. All we got out of it was: 'its gods will smite us with their unlimited power.' Or some crap like that."

"You want me to talk to it."

"Yes."

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"No." Palmer heard something of a round cycling into a chamber.

"I see." He forced a smile, removing the aviator glasses. "Well, let me get going then."

Ten large steps he was half way there, he stopped, wondered if he could make a break for the door but then where would he go? The Soviet Union? He heard Vodka was good for you.

He took the ten more steps and he saw the eyes of the creature looking at him. Its head cocked sideways, as if amused by Palmer's presence. He took a step forward, into the light. The creature narrowed its eyes and looked away.

Palmer frowned, what the hell was he suppose to ask?

"What's your name?" Awkward question, but did these creatures even have a name?

The creature didn't even glance at him. It looked down at a focused point on the floor. "Great…" Palmer took off his baseball cap and rubbed a hand through his hair. He then sighed, crouching down. "Look, whatever you are, but there is a good chance, that if either you or I don't compromise with each other, neither of us are leaving here alive. And sorry, but I'm not ready to die."

The beast finally glanced up. He gave a heavy set blink of its eyes.

"Your primitive race will die in a sea of holy fire." Its voice was deep, menacing. Palmer didn't flinch.

"Yeah, we get that a lot, but it's mostly from one human to another. We call it hell. So, what is your name?"

"I am Shipmaster Oslo Vatuee, the eyes of the Prophets." The creature seemed to be disoriented.

"So why are you here?"

It seemed to realize it had no hope. It began. "My ship was to scout Holy Paths to our God's worlds. We were caught in the wake of something that we could not comprehend. We dropped out of the paths for repairs. In your system. And we found your race, and watched as you destroyed yourselves."

"Wait a minute, how long were you in our system?"

"Five of your planets rotations around your star. We were caught in a plasma discharge from your star, and we evacuated our ship."

Palmer nodded. "Right, and what species are you. What is your race name?"

"I am from the Holy Covenant; my species would translate Elite in your primate tongue."

"Glad to know." Palmer stood, and the creature watched him. Palmer turned, and gave one final glance at the creature, he wanted to know more, but the shadow that was moving up silently from behind the beast told him other wise. So he disappeared into the black, only to meet an all too similar fate to his alien comrade.

The blow came hard, it hit the space of the neck and he crumpled like a rag doll, he groaned as his eyes closed. But one final thought came to his mind.

_Looks like I'm not going to make it to dinner…_


End file.
